We did not coordinate outfits beforehand. We each came out of our rooms and went, “Dooooood. Niiiiiiice.”Oh mah dam but he’s handsome! (Never mind I’m a tad biased.) He’s single, ladies! (Must not be a drama queen, a player, or a doosh. Extra points if you sign.)He’s such a handsome devil.Oh mah love. My person.Elli & Erin are VERY excited to go to Gramma’s.Happy Thanksgiving from me and mine to you and yours!

On 7/8/2016, Tom, my friends and I got to meet our favorite author. We were almost last in line (on purpose; see also: anxiety issues) and got to get our books signed, and talk with Jenny. Tom got his Rory card signed and I gave Jenny the Knitted Knaughties. If you don’t know about these, you’ll have to put that in my search box and enjoy a really good story about Jenny matchmaking me (in Iowa) and Louise (in New Zealand; see also: possible place to move if Trump becomes President, because if so, I’m Audi, dude) to come up with a knitted vagina and penis to show women where to find their clitoris in a totally non-skeevy way. Seriously; some women have to be shown. My sons learned a lot from this pair, and to their future wives, I say, “You. Are. Welcome.”

That was kind of a long stream of consciousness type of ramble, and I blame my phone. So I’ll just tack on the pictures and call it good.

Jenny doing a totally kick-ass reading

Jenny and TomJenny accepting the adoption of the Knitted Knaughties

Jenny and I and the Knitted KnaughtiesJenny combining a couple of her gifts so things could get even weirder, if possibleJenny and Kenzie conversing intentlyJenny and Kenzie

And they all checked one thing off their bucket list and lived happily ever after. Amen.

This is a very real Saturday morning for us. Tom got up early, I slept late, we’re chatting about last night (henceforth to be known as Jenny Lawson night, that which shall live on in family lore), there’s a chicken among us, and Tom has James Taylor on in the background.

Stuff Dory already forgot

Stuff Dory already forgot

CateDories

CateDories

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Dory loves her some comments

Comments=Love.
And I needs the love. Oh, how I craves the looove. And I'm not shy; it's a spectacularly dysfunctional, codependent, "but I looooooove him, he din't mean to crack mah jaw! Noooo, don't take him awaaaaay!" type of love.
Enable me, won't you?
But. (There is always a but, and sometimes a butt.)
BUT.
If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all. Don’t be a jackass, please.
Don’t be that guy.
Nobody likes that guy.

Dory Can’t Remember Diddly!

All my social media links can be found at jenness asby dot comSo now you should "Follow" me or "Friend" me or "Like" me or just bite the head off my chicken and wear it as a hat or whatever you kids do to *pathetically whines* beee myyy frieeeend.•:• •:• •:•

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